Frostbite
by Uniasus
Summary: Sam's plan to hide from the Autobot's on a small Danish island don't go as planned when the Decepticons show up and take control. It won't be too long until he's found, so what's worse: a one-shot kill or being in Ratchet's care again? 3rd of Frozen verse
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Is this, is this finally the next installment of the Frozen verse? Why, yes it tis! So sorry it took me so long, but now that classes are over I find myself with this huge amount of free time, and well, I'm sure several of you have noticed the recent influx of fic from me ^_~

So yes, there are two fics you should read before this on, Frozen and Thawed. Otherwise you'll be really confused.

* * *

><p><span>Frostbite<span>

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 1**

* * *

><p>He closed the door to his smart car and made his way to the office, smiling at the French couple he passed on the path. The bell above the door chimed as he opened the door.<p>

"Did you decide you wanted another j-" Lune cut herself off as she looked up and saw him. "Sal! How was your trip?"

"Nice, I got to catch up with an old friend. And the weather was warmer too." Sal had taken a trip to the Grand Canyon to take pictures for a client. He'd been hesitant at first, like he always was when traveling to the United States, but it had been good to see Seymour again. They hadn't seen each other since the ex-Sector Seven agent came to visit him on Samsoe two years ago.

He'd lived on the Danish island for five years now; owned a share in a windmill, was a freelance photographer, and ran a u-pick strawberry farm. Or rather, Lune ran it for the past year and a half. She should have been at the local university on the mainland, but her mother's failing fight against caner made her put off her schooling. Lune had a great head for business and Sal was thankful he hired her.

"How'd we do this past week?" he asked.

Lune shrugged. "It's still a bit early to go picking berries, but I've sold quite a few things from the shop."

"Cool, cool, I just wanted to check in, see how we're doing. Have a good evening Lune," Sal called as he made his way out of the small building.

"You too Sal!" She called after him.

He smiled and shook his head as he got into the car. Lune always seemed to be as chipper as a sugar fed child. Sal shifted into reverse and headed into the village.

A black Ford Falcon with a grill on the front speed by him going the other way. Sal stared open mouthed at it as it passed. No one, and he meant _no one_ drove anything other than green cars on Samsoe. Samsingers were very proud of their status as a green island; Samsoe had had a carbon footprint of zero for almost 25 years, had been a renewable energy community for about 35. Tourists didn't even have the opportunity to rent anything that didn't run on biofuels. The Ford than must have belonged to someone very, very rich.

_Or a Decepticon,_ Sal thought and he found himself looking in his rear view window at the distant back of the Ford. But he didn't recognize the car (or alt mode). He'd been out of the lop for way too long, dead for 17 years, and it had turned him a little paranoid, as Lune would say from time to time. Quick to view situations as dangerous.

Sal shifted in the driver's seat and pulled his phone out of his butt pocket. A quick click through his contact list to find the number he was looking for and then Lune was picking up the phone on the other end.

"Singers Farm~!"

"Hey Lune, did a black Ford just drive past? What latest Island gossip did you forget to tell me?" He meant it to sound friendly, but it came out sounding harder than he had planned on.

"Actually, he just pulled into the parking lot."

"What's he look like?"

"Um, late 30s, blonde hair, built like a pole."

He ran the information against all the holoforms he knew, not that he knew many anyway, but didn't find a match. "Let me know what he wants, kay Lune?"

"No problem, Sal." They hung up. He placed the phone in a cup holder and started drumming anxiously on the steering wheel, still shooting glances into his rear view mirror. Never mind the fact the farm was out of sight.

She called back seven minutes later, right after he walked through the doors of the local grocery store.

"This was the first time I've seen him, no island gossip on that front. I've certainly got my own to share now."

"What he'd want Lune?" Sal snapped impatiently. Lune, thank God, didn't get defensive, used to his ways.

"He just looked around the shop, didn't buy anything, and asked about our power system here. I directed him to the Center."

Nothing suspicious there, plenty of tourists wanted to check out Denmark's Green Island. But he could imagine why Decepticons could too. Take out the power, control the area. Just to be on the safe side, he'd by enough food for a week. It wouldn't be that uncommon of a thing for him to do. He always did a lot of editing after a trip for his freelancing photographing work.

* * *

><p>His plan of staying hidden at home proved to have merit. As the week went by more and more strange cars showed up. A few were regular cars, albeit foreign to the Samsingers who all drove electrics, but a good many more seemed to be construction vehicles and military grade transports. Sal wasn't the only one on edge. As soon as he heard rumors of two jets landing in a field in Stavns Fjord he knew something was up.<p>

As it was, the target wasn't him, which he had been expecting, but the island itself. He didn't know whose plan it was, Megatron's (if he was still alive after 23 years) or Starscream's, but having a location that could supply a constant fuel supply with no limit like those of a fossil fuel was something the Decepticons set their optics on. Sal cursed himself for not seeing that Samsoe would be a potential target just for that reason, but he had been so taken by the simple, nothing to hide life the island offered. Secrets don't stay secrets on an island of 4,ooo people for long. He was surprised his had been under wraps for about five years now, but Seymour had given him lots of tips.

The conquest of Samsoe's Island was quick and actually pretty peaceful. The Autobots weren't involved, so there was minimal property damage. A few homes had been destroyed, cows roasted with a pulsar beam, and the local government gave in due to fright. Sal, like many of the other Samsingers, were just happy they were still alive.

Living under Deception rule was a lot more pleasant than being a frozen Autobot prisoner. He had hot water, got to live his day-to-day life mostly unhampered, take his Nikon out and take photographs. Not that he could edit them. The only things he didn't have were electricity and customers at the farm.

The Deceptions seemed to be making an effort to stay under Autobot radar, taking only the energy produced by wind turbines and leaving enough to continue providing for the neighborhoods on the mainland that bought power from Samsoe. It gave the appearance that all was well, which for the most part it was. They still received shipments from the mainland and were able to ship goods out, so at least Sal could sell his strawberries somewhere. And aside from the first declaration of conquest, the Cybertronians hadn't transformed. They stayed in their alt forms, flying or driving around to maintain the heavy oppression of fear.

Still wary over being recognized, Sal very rarely left his house during the day. Come night, when the community gathered at the heating center to cook a potluck dinner with the hot water there, Sal always made a point to wear a hat and have his hair out of the short point tail he usually wore to help change his profile. The Cons may not be looking for him, but if found he doubted good things would happen.

He never considered calling NEST or the Autobots; his prime objective was to keep as much space between them and him. And while calling Seymour was an option, he wasn't too sure what the retired official could do anyway.

Plus, if he kept his head down, it should all work out. When the opportune moment came he'd slip onto a boat and escape Samsoe to start a new life elsewhere. Sal wasn't sure how long he could stay hidden among the Samsingers.

It was common practice to trade rumors about new aliens while dinner cooked. So far the tally was two jets (Starscream and someone he didn't know), a flying tank (Megatron), the black Ford Falcon (Whom he suspected was Barricade) a variety of construction vehicles (whom he recognized but couldn't name) as well as a smattering of other forms he didn't recognize at all. And the list kept getting bigger it seemed.

"I saw two birds today, while I was with the cows," John said at dinner that night. "They were larger than any of the falcons I've seen before. And they flashed sometimes, as if made of metal."

The group around the boiling pot broke into discussion as to whether the birds were aliens or not.

"You're quite," Lune said, bumping his shoulder as she came up next to him.

"Yeah, well I don't have anything to add to the conversation."

"No thoughts on whether or not the birds are aliens?" Lune's forehead wrinkled as she turned to lift an eyebrow and failed. "Usually you'd spin some odd tale about them spying and conspiring about them actually being aliens that only look like birds who are planning to kill us."

"Like pretending to be cars and then attacking us?" Sal was more skilled in the art of raising an eyebrow.

"Ah…point. So your paranoia might not be so far fetched after all."

"Told ya." He lifted the corner of his mouth in a half smile.

Lune sighed. "Still doesn't explain why you aren't spouting out more theories or making 'I-told-you-so' claims."

"I'm pretty sure that the scenarios I'm coming up with aren't just in my head. Others are imaging them too. As to the 'birds', there are already more aliens on Samsoe than I would like. What's two more at this point?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Yes, Samsoe is a real place. I put a lot of research into this baby! Sorry for the lack of action about the whole 'Con take over part, but really, not much happened. There was no one around who _could_ fight, so it wasn't much of one. Just one large display of force and that was it.

Yes, Sal is Sam. I seem to like the idea of him changing his name and going through witness protection :/ But this time it wasn't govt sanctioned, and more like Simmons pulling strings. Simmons, by the way, has a much larger part in this fic that I had been expecting. Screen hog.


	2. Chapter 2

Frostbite

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 2**

* * *

><p>There was a Danish news broadcast showing on the wall with English subtitles running along the bottom. The image was of a blackouted island, accorded to the image tag in the red bar at the screen's bottom.<p>

"Still no word about this mysterious new green project on Samsoe Island. While the towns that purchase the excess electricity the wind farms make, the Island itself has remained dark for a month now and all attempts to visit by tourists have been prevented."

The imaged changed to show a handful of construction vehicles near the base of a windmill. "While evidence of a long term project have been found by our news helicopter, no ground has been broken yet and we have been unable to contact any Samsoe resident to ask for details. Regardless, the project is sure to help propel Samsoe, and Denmark with it, into the future."

The Danish newscaster's voice disappeared and the subtitles stopped scrolling as the lights in the room slowly undimmed.

"I'm sure you recognize these alt modes," Colonel Lennox spoke, striding to the side of the large screen and referring to the zoomed image displayed beside him. It showcased the construction machines the newscast had shown.

"And these," the colonel continued as images of two jets appeared on the screen. More images of a variety of cars appeared one by one. "We're pretty sure these are all Cons, but we can't be sure which ones as most of these alt modes are new. But as a rule, Samsoe residents only drive green cars. All of these," Lennox waved a hand toward the screen, "aren't."

He paced across the screen to the other side of the room. "However, we've received no cries of 'aliens' or 'help' from the region and day time satellite imagery shows the residents going about their daily lives uninterrupted so there's a chance this really is just a secret Danish science project. The Denmark government failed to comment."

"But you feel it isn't." The voice came from a 2000 Peterbilt model semi-cab. For being over 20 years old, it was in great condition.

Lennox nodded in assent. "No Prime, I don't. I'd like to send a scout if that's okay with you. It would have to be one of your guys. No one's allowed on or off Samsoe at the moment."

"Do you have any objections, Bumblebee?" Optimus Prime asked.

"No sir," a yellow 2027 Spyder answered.

"In that case, your flight leaves at 1300, Bumblebee." Lennox said, crossing his arms and looking at the Spyder. "Let us know what you find. Dismissed!" The last word was a barked half-order and had NEST solders and Autobots leaving the hanger.

* * *

><p>Samsoe Island, Bumblebee decided, was the tiniest place he had ever been sent to on assignment. Located in the Kattegat Straight it was only 114 square miles and housed four thousand people. But it was quite an achievement of human energy collection. No wonder the Decepticons were interested.<p>

Granted, as a scout he had acute sensors and scanners. Bumblebee had picked up Con ID signals before he even boarded the ferry to Samsoe. For the Cons to go through the effort to stay under NEST's radar and then not invest in signal dampeners spoke of Megatron's not fully thought out plans.

Not that he had much going for his own plan at the moment. Bumblebee had sent Prime the message that yes, Decepticons were on Samsoe, and a request for back up to help free the residents from Con rule. But now he was stuck on a tiny island having to hide from all the other Cybertronians.

It was no easy feat; the Cons had no logical path of direction and seemed to drive or fly wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted throughout the island. And the humans kept a wide berth from him, wary about approaching. Bumblebee had a sense that they knew he wasn't an ordinary car and automatically grouped him with the Decepticons. Looks however was all he got sent his way and Bumblebee was reminded of how even after being a month under Con rule not a single call for a rescue from transforming metal aliens had been sent out. So while the humans weren't pleased with their current predicament, they weren't upset enough to change it. Or maybe they thought it futile to try.

He had been hiding near a heating plant, where biomasses were burned to heat up water that was then sent to local homes, when humans started appearing with a variety of food. Bumblebee watched as large tubs of water were hauled out and the food was placed inside to cook. He supposed it made sense, no electricity meant no kitchen appliances and the village this heating plant was in held only about 50 people.

Bumblebee gave a start as a young man showed up carrying a bag of strawberries under his left arm. He looked like Sam, though a bit older and with long hair, but enough to make his spark skip a wave. It had been 22 years and 8 months since Sam died, a lonely 22 years and 8 months at times. And here in front of him was someone who could have been Sam's twin! So great was the likeliness, so great was his disillusioned hope, the Bumblebee was about to flash his customary greeting when a young blonde ran up to Sam and called him 'Sal'.

Startled out of his fantasy, Bumblebee sunk on his wheels in an expression of self-hatred and broken illusions. Of course it wasn't Sam, Sam was dead (dead!) despite all Ratchet could do to help him. Bumblebee had even gone to the funeral and held a crying Mikaela and Witwicky parent couple afterwards, had been in a slump for a year after Sam died, and then went into another one for six months when Mikaela left.

Shaking off his internal funk, Bumblebee noticed the topic of most discussion between the humans was the noticement of his alt form and the declaration of his alien status. Softly, quietly, he snuck backwards and made his way to a different spot to spend the night.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Happy Easter! As I didn't get a basket this year, I'd love reviews!


	3. Chapter 3

Frostbite

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 3**

* * *

><p>As Lennox had his suspicions, so did Optimus Prime. After decades of working together, the two commanders typically had similar ideas about intel. The situation on Samsoe Island was on that would need NEST participation and so Optimus had started putting together a strike team as soon as Bumblebee left.<p>

When the scout sent that there were Decepticons on the island and humans were still not allowed on the ferry, that strike team rolled out. Himself, Ratchet, Ironhide, Jolt, and the frontline twins were to be air dropped on Samsoe while a group of NEST soldiers was to stay on the mainland with Long Arm. Powerglide was to help in the air, and a second team was to wait in the wings in case they were needed. The objective was to drive the Decepticons off Samsoe and allow the residents to live free of Megatron's rule.

* * *

><p><em>Of course,<em> Sal thought as he grabbed hold of a door frame while his house shook, _where there are Decepticons, Autobots are sure to follow_. Which meant fighting, which in turn meant property damage, most likely a few deaths, a chance of being discovered and frozen, and then there was –

Sal scrambled to the back of his house as a Cybertronian started falling. He couldn't tell who it was, the passing of years meant new alt forms and arrivals so he only recognized Prime, Ratchet, and Bumblebee for sure, but the rapidly approaching back meant he had no idea if the mech destroying his house was either a Bot or a Con.

Whoever it was, the entire house shuttered as the mech fell onto the roof, the solar panels there snapping, and then the entire house crunched and broke as the second floor collapsed onto the first. Sal found himself sliding on the wooden floor towards the downed mech, who he could now say was a red Autobot, when the rest of the roof fell on his head to knock him out.

When he woke up minutes later it was to the sound of Lune frantically calling his name and the sound of shifting wood.

"Sal, Sal!"

He wasn't buried too deeply and stuck a hand through two beams to wave. There was the sound of scrambling and then the beams on top of him were moved and he was greeted to the sight of Lune's face next to that of his neighbor John.

With their help, Sal was able to get out of the ruins of his house, glad that the Bot who had fallen into it hadn't landed on top of him. He just got back up to continue fighting, paying Sal's collapsed house no more attention than a stranger's fallen house of cards.

Once out of the ruins of his home, Sal could see only half of two walls were left standing. He briefly considered going in for his camera, he had to deliver those pictures for his client after all, but was distracted by Lune pressing one of his kitchen towels to his forehead.

"You're bleeding." She explained.

And indeed he was. Sal let Lune doctor him up a bit while he watched the fight. There wasn't any clear winner yet, but the black Bot who just released shot had to be Ironhide. The cannons were a dead giveaway.

"Lune, what are you doing here?" Sal asked. She wasn't exactly a close neighbor and he was sure her family could use her help.

"I was at the farm when I saw the fighting, I wanted to make sure you were safe."

"You should go check up on your family Lune," It was a light chastisement, she would have had to go past her family's house to get to his from the farm.

"I wanna stay here." Shyly, she slipped her hand into his. Sal didn't pull away, they were close in age (if you didn't count the years he had been frozen) and he couldn't say he hadn't noticed her. But the middle of a droid death match was no place for a budding relationship. And as soon as he could, Sal was going to drop the whole Sal persona he had lived the past five years and start a new one elsewhere. Without Lune. Because he needed a girl who would follow him halfway around the world, and she couldn't. Not with her mother waiting for the caner to win. He also didn't want to get a girl so deep into his problems again.

Sal turned to give Lune a sad smile, giving her hand a small squeeze. Let them indulge, if only for a few moments.

He turned to John. "We need to get everyone out of here."

The fighting was out in the fields still, but as was recently shown by a mech landing on his roof, the town wasn't safe. His house was on the outskirts, but the battle was getting closer and it was only a matter of time before another mech was thrown into someone else's kitchen. Or on someone. A lot of Samsingers had gathered in small groups outside to gawk.

"What are you suggesting?" John asked, acknowledging Sal's bid for leadership.

"The mainland. They prevented us from getting off Samsoe before, but now that they're fighting…I think we have a chance of leaving. All the aliens are probably fighting."

John nodded. "I'll get a head count and start helping people pack." He headed off toward the nearest cluster of Samsingers.

"Lune?"

"Mmm?"

"Start calling people from other towns, tell them what's going on."

The blonde pulled her phone out from her jacket pocket, still holding Sal's hand as she thumbed through her contact list.

Sal turned his attention to watching the battle. That had to be Megatron Optimus was sharing blows with, and Ratchet's opponent was someone he didn't know. The medic sent a quick glance over his shoulder towards the village and Sal instinctively stepped behind Lune to hide. He didn't see Bumblebee, the ex-Camaro had driven off after the black Ford Falcon whom he suspected was Barricade.

It hurt, and yet didn't, to see the Autobots again. The positive memories he had, mostly of times with Bee, were now a bittersweet poison. Over the years he had found himself wondering if Bumblebee had ever saw him as a true friend; the scout certainly didn't put up a fuss about handing him over to Ratchet, playing along with his death. Nor did Optimus; after all they had done for each other. Or not. He never really got to thank Optimus for believing in him, got to apologize for getting him killed. But to be honest, thoughts of such actions had come and gone from his head. After being frozen for over 17 years, he didn't owe any Bot anything. And if he ever got his hands on one of them –

"Sal?" Lune asked, slightly panicked, and he forced himself to stop grinding his teeth and loosen his grip on Lune's hand.

"Sorry," He slipped his hand out of hers and used it to fish his own smartphone from his back pocket to call other Samsingers he could count on to take action.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Poor Sam, Sideswipe broke his house. ;_;


	4. Chapter 4

Frostbite

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 4**

* * *

><p>As soon as back-up arrived, Bumblebee knew canons would be drawn. He calculated the time it took him to arrive, the time it would take a larger force to arrive, and so was ready when Ironhide jumped out of a plane and sent a blast in the direction of a low flying Thrust. Bumblebee aimed himself to launch a flying transformation off a hill that landed him on Barricade's alt form. He only managed a weak shot before the Con had shaken him off and took off gunning his engine. Bumblebee lost several seconds as he rolled to a stop and then transformed into his Spyder alt form to follow.<p>

Bumblebee was faster, but not only was Barricade a touch more agile he was more robust. Driving through a stone wall didn't diminish the Con's speed in the slightest, while the left over stones grated on Bee's more delicate undercarriage. Not to mention Barricade knew the route and terrain a lot better than hid did. At least all the cows had run away, bellowing in terror.

Still, in a one-on-one fight they both knew Bumblebee would win. So Barricade kept near the battle, giving the scout the opportunity to witness an excellent upper cut on Prime's behalf to Megatron's face as well as Scrapper throwing Sideswipe into a human's house. He hoped it was empty.

Bumblebee would send blasts towards the Ford in front of him, and while Barricade would send back a couple of his own, they didn't do too much damage. No, most of his worry came from air attacks in the form of Starscream. Powerglide was an incredible trick flyer, but the Deception Air Commander still managed to slip by. Thrust was not quite so talented; Bumblebee noted the smoke trail tailing the other seeker.

He veered around a gimpy cow unable to get out of the way in time, followed Barricade over a hill, and took a shot at the Con's underside as he went air born. It was a direct hit, sending the Ford tumbling down the slope to crash into a nearby house. He had no idea they were so close to the village and the humans!

There was a group of humans, a family, streaming out of the house next to the one Barricade crashed into. They were panicked; rushing with stuffed suitcases that kept from falling open by arms and string, towards a small care Bumblebee didn't believe would fit both all the family and its luggage. There was someone standing next to the father, trying to explain that very thing to him as the elder man tried stuffing suitcases into the trunk.

"Just leave it and go!" the younger man shouted. He sounded like Sam, he looked like Sam, had a similar biostructure and rhythm to Sam, so when Bumblebee noticed the damaged house next door was going to land on him while the parked car was going to escape his body acted on autopilot. His job had been to protect Sam, and while the boy had been dead for years Bumblebee had never replaced the task as his prime objective.

The Spyder launched himself at the Sam look alike, who still had yet to realize the house behind him was going to crush him. He barrel-rolled, curling around the human, and finishing the maneuver on one knee with his back to a Barricade struggling with the supports of the house that had caged him.

"Are you okay, are you alright?" Bumblebee asked, algorithms still stating that the life in his hands was Sam and thus changing his dialog to imitate song. Never mind that he _knew_ his friend was ashes scattered in the wind.

The human was not being a grateful rescuee. He had stuck his hand under the two derma plates on one of his fingers and yanked, disconnecting lines and spilling fluids. Bumblebee winced. The human quickly stuck his hand in a second finger, applying pressure but not ripping out the lines.

"Put me down Bee."

It didn't make any logical sense, but still clicked in his processor. The voice, looks, and biorhythms didn't just mimic Sam's, they _were_ Sam's. How else would the human in his hands know his name? Bumblebee curled his hands around his friend and brought him up to his chest. _Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam,_ his processor whispered. It didn't matter how he was alive, why, or how come he looked like he was 23, he was alive!

Sam yanked and the lines came detached in his other finger.

"Put me down Bumblebee. Now."

Slowly, Bumblebee uncurled his fingers and brought his cupped hands higher to be at optic level. Sam held the lines of a third finger hostage, eyes a hard brown. He obviously had no qualms about disabling the entire hand.

"But Sam, you've been – " a hard tug on the lines cut him off.

"Now," Sam said, eyes flashing. And Bumblebee complied, gently laying his hand flat on the ground to allow the human to step off. Something, some forgotten long ago Cybertronian instinct told him to do as Sam commanded. Because even though he was less than six feet and made of organic materials, he was dangerous. Never before had Bumblebee been frightened of Sam, and the fact that he was, was scary all by itself. But somehow Bumblebee knew, Sam could cripple him with hardly any effort.

As Sam stepped slowly away from him one of those small cars pulled up behind him.

"Sal!" the young blonde in the driver's seat called.

"Just leave me alone Bee, all of you," Sam said. "I'm done, and I can't give you what you want anyway."

Bumblebee reached out his undamaged hand, but at the look Sam gave him quickly retracted it.

"Sal!" The woman was close to hysterics now, looking at something behind Bee.

"Coming." Sam turned around and ran towards the passenger side door, sliding in and slamming the door shut.

Before the blonde had even put the car into the proper gear to move, Bumblebee felt Barricade land two shots on his back. Falling forward, he made sure his hands didn't block Sam's escape from battle. He didn't want to think about the warning Sam could have given him, but didn't.

"You sure you're alright?" Lune kept shooting him looks while she drove towards the ferry dock.

He inspected his hands, they were a little scraped up from getting into Bee's joints, but nothing that required more than a band-aid.

"Yeah, I'm good Lune. He didn't hurt me." Not physically anyway, but seeing Bumblebee that close, interacting with him, had done funky things to his chest. Bumblebee had seemed shocked and so glad to see him, hinting at least the Autobot had indeed had genuine feeling of friendship towards him. But knowing that, seeing that, had ripped open anew the wound of betrayal. It would have been a lot easier if Bumblebee hadn't grabbed him, hadn't been on Samsoe.

The entire time he spent on the island had been wonderful; peaceful, calm, trusting, and a soothing balm to the paranoia he'd come to share with Seymour. (Not many alt forms on Samsoe, the bot would have to be tiny and he had an electric saw in his house and his car for such instance just in case.) He knew he had to leave, and soon, while all the Cybertronians were occupied. He knew he couldn't expect to spend his entire life on Samsoe either, never planed to, but the idea of leaving so suddenly and in such a situation bothered him more than he thought it would. In a perfect world, he would have stayed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **And so, after a long dely, here's your new chapter! Many thanks to MissMary, who gave me a polite butt kicking saying she wanted a new chapter pronto.

Today is awful. My house doesn't have A/C nor do we have ice cube, and I refuse to drink the water from the tap because it tastes funny. So, I would love some review loving from you guys to banish this misery from my mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Frostbite

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 5**

* * *

><p>It wasn't the longest battle in the war, or on Earth, but it felt like it. With Sam no longer resting on his palm all the questions connected to his reappearance kept circling in his processor. They were all linked to Ratchet and he eventually came up with the conclusion that the medic had lied when he made the announcement that Sam was dead.<p>

So when the Cons had finally been run off and all the Autobot gathered together around Prime it seemed only natural to walk up to Ratchet and slam a punch into the side of his face.

Sideswipe quickly grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, upsetting Bee's attempt at continuing his charge on the medic.

"Bumblebee!" Prime chastised, staring at him in shock.

"He lied," Bumblebee spat, trying to get at Rachet again, which forced Sunstreaker to join his twin in holding him back. "He fragging _lied._"

Ratchet had a slightly panicked look on his face and edged himself further behind Jolt. The blue mech had stepped between Bumblebee and the medic moments earlier. That more than anything spelled his guilt to the scout. Ratchet knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Don't deny it," Bumblebee snarled at the CMO. "You said Sam died. But he's alive. Here. I saw him." He tried to shake off the twins to no avail.

Ratchet sent a quick look towards Prime, but Bumblebee didn't give much thought to it. Having Prime angry at you was worse that being in a one v. three situation with Starscream's trine. After lying about something like this, Ratchet was sure to attract the wrath of the Autobot Commander, and Bumblebee couldn't wait to watch it. Ratchet was scared. Good.

"Bumblebee," Prime said, voice low as if he was a spooked animal. "Sam died. More than 20 Earth years ago."

"No he didn't! I _saw_ him! Ratchet _lied_!"

Ironhide was giving him a pitying look, Jolt was still being used willingly or not as a shield between him and Ratchet, and the medic himself was doing his best to hide. He was guilty, guilty! Why couldn't the others see that?

"No he didn't Bee," Prime continued, "You went to Sam's funeral yourself."

"I know!" Bumblebee wailed. "I don't know how he faked it, but he did! Sam is _alive_, I telling you." He hated the pleading in his voice, but he didn't know how to make them understand that he hadn't been imagining things. That his systems weren't faulty.

The order must have been sent over private comm channels, because Bumblebee didn't hear any. But the twins, who had just been trying to prevent him from attacking Ratchet again, suddenly went on the offensive and forced him to the ground. Bumblebee struggled to throw them off, but Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were frontliners for a reason and he didn't stand a chance. Ratchet cautiously approached him, taking care to keep his distance. From his subspace he pulled out a needle. The medic skirted around to Bumblebee's side, refusing to met his optics, and silently injected the drug into an energon line in his neck.

"Liar," Bumblebee managed to hiss before shutting down. It was nice to see Ratchet flinch at the statement.

* * *

><p>After Bumblebee had been knocked out the rest of the group turned somber, but no one even thought the scout's accusation was true. It was a relief of sorts, for Ratchet to know his largest act of disobedience was still a secret. But the sudden reminder of what he had done to Sam sent a lance of depression and guilt through his spark.<p>

Ratchet didn't like keeping secrets. Or disobeying orders. He had first hand experience that taught him the downside of that and a doorwing in his office reminding him of the consequences of not listening to his superiors. And what he did to Sam underscored Prime's whole ideal of not harming humans and trying to forge good connections with the natives of planets they came across. But he did it with good reason. Granted, the last time was for a good reason too and it most likely ended with death.

Keeping Sam frozen had violated the human's free will, went against Autobot principals, and probably broke dozens of laws. It had always been a heavy weight, one that had lessoned the past five years due to a lack of thinking about it and knowing that Sam was alive and living a life he wanted. But Bumblebee's outbursts brought it all back to the forefront of his processor. At the moment, all Ratchet wanted to do was slink into a corner and wade his misery out.

But he couldn't. He didn't want to announce to everyone that Bumblebee had been telling the truth. Prime knew, had released Sam, and had kept it secret. That silent support, of Optimus if not Prime, had kept his spark alight in the darkness of knowing his secret had been found out. But no one else needed to know how low their medic could sink.

"Who is Sam anyway?" Powerglide asked, breaking Ratchet from his thoughts.

"Oh yeah, you got here after," Sideswipe spoke up. "You too," he added, turning to face his brother. Sunstreaker shrugged, not really caring about some human he'd never met.

Sideswipe turned back to Powerglide. "I didn't really know the human, just met him a couple of times."

"He destroyed Megatron once, and saved my life twice," Prime said, staring at Bumblebee's still form sadly. "He was a human chosen by the All Spark whom Bumblebee was charged to guard. He died 23 years ago due to the fight against the Fallen."

"Huh," Sunstreaker grunted, sounding impressed but trying not to show it. "Sounds okay for a human."

"He was," Ironhide growled, starting the yellow twin. Hide was never very generous in giving out compliments.

"Huh," Sunstreaker grunted again.

Powerglide's propellers lazily spun in interest. "Sounds like he would have been fun to fly with."

"We need to assess the damage," Prime spoke up, looking towards the rubble of homes in the nearby village. He had tried to keep the battle away from the houses, and most were still standing, but the surrounding land was greatly torn up. "And electricity needs to be restored to the residents of this island."

"I think I saw the electricity station on our way in," Jolt said, looking north.

Prime nodded. "See if you can repair the system Jolt. The rest of us, roll out and help where you can."

"I'll stay here, if that's okay Prime," Ratchet offered. "I don't want to leave Bumblebee alone."

"Very well. Autobots, roll out."

Ratchet watched as the mechs around him transformed to their alt modes and headed down the road. Once they were out of sight, the medic opened the data port at the base of Bee's neck and plugged in a cable. The only way the scout could have made the declarations he did was if he had actually run into Sam here on Samsoe. And if that was the case, Ratchet wanted to see for himself that Sam was okay, even if it was only through Bumblebee's memories.

The Sam in Bee's memory was certainly a Sam who looked a couple of years older than he had the last time Ratchet saw him. He displayed an ease with being in the company of Cybertronians, but there was something in Sam's eyes that caught his attention. He could feel Bumblebee's emotive memory of sudden and worrying fear from the human, but Ratchet instead felt a spark of interest. Maybe, just maybe, Sam had full access to the All Spark's knowledge now. Maybe he could get what he wanted.

The CMO shifted to his vehicle mode and headed towards the docks.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** *sigh* Now my house has no A/C or Internet. Internet though, will be fixed hopefully today, if Comcast does it's job correctly. Thus, I'm uploading this while at work. I had planned on doing it this past weekend, so I apologize for the delay.

I have yet to see TF3 yet, and have heard mixed reviews, but want to see it just cuz of all the authors I have on alert are writing stories based on the new movie. My sister better hurry up and get back from India!

Also, if you're interested in Ratchet's past mistake, check out Irresponsible. I wasn't to sure I was going to link them, but it sorta just happened :/


	6. Chapter 6

Frostbite

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 6**

* * *

><p>"But we need you Sal!" John threw his hands up to emphasis his point. "You organized gathering everyone together, spelled out what those who are staying need. Everyone is looking towards you for direction." Sal could hear the silent plea, don't leave this all on my shoulders.<p>

Lune stood next to him, silently saying similar things. We need you to lead us. Don't leave me. Stay. Many of the Samsingers were; Samsoe being the only home they had known for generations and they were hesitant to abandon it so quickly. Of the ones boarding the ferry to cross, most were the elderly and couples with young children. And even then there were cases of one parent staying behind.

"I can't stay here, I can't John."

"Why not?" the cow farmer asked.

"Let's just say the reason I came to Samsoe caught up to me and I don't have a chance but to leave."

John pressed his lips together in a tight line, but it was Lune who spoke.

"Something to do with the aliens, right? You know them."

Sal gave a quick look around to make sure no one else was listening to their conversation and then shot her look that neither confirmed nor denied it. "I've been wanting to leave for a month now, a little more," he stretched the time, trying to sound like the arrival of the Cons hadn't affected his choice but he could tell John and Lune weren't completely buying it. "Now that I don't have anything preventing me from leaving, I'm taking off." He crossed his arms over his chest defiantly.

"And go where?" John asked, stepping closer to him. "You want gone? Fine. But you need a plan. Stay here with us until you got one."

"I do have one. I'm going to stay with an old friend of mine."

"Really, who?"

"You don't know him."

"And you're just going to stop by unannounced, have him come home to find you sitting by his door?"

He shrugged. "I've done that before."

"And he, he can help you? And we can't?" John's voice was starting to break.

"He used to work for the government, so yes."

"Sal, please," Lune quickly strode into his personal bubble to take his hand. "Stay," she said softly, running her thumb over the ridges of his knuckle.

He watched her play with his fingers for a moment before slowly freeing them. "I'm not interested Lune." Turning, he made his way to the gangplank to climb the boat.

"Sal!" John called after him, but he didn't turn around. He'd never answer to that name again. That life was over.

* * *

><p>Seymour Simmons had his morning coffee disrupted by the vibration of his cellphone when it fell from his hand and into the mug.<p>

"God damnit!" he said, fishing it out and pressing talk. "I just got your message Clark –"

"Tell me what you know about Samuel Witwicky and where he's been the past couple years."

Simmons froze, not minding the coffee dripping down along his forearm. Shit, shit, shit! He could tell by the voice it was an NBE who called, but he couldn't tell who.

"Last I checked, six feet under."

"I know he's alive and I know you've been in contact with him. Tell me what's happened in the past five years."

Which meant one thing, someone had found Sam. The question was, who?

It didn't matter, what did was Sam's safety.

He hung up. And then double checked to make sure anything even hinting at Sam was deleted off of everything from his computer to his phone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Um, yeah. Sorry for the short chapter, but these two sections were just naturally short and the next one was a bit too long to add. That's what happens when you write dialog *sigh*

Oh dear Sammy boy, you've given up your name! Which is a pain to write, I'll let you guys know. His next sections have an over abundance of the word 'he'.

Reviews are loved!


	7. Chapter 7

**Dedication**: A goodbye present for my sister, who is heading back to school for the year while I'm stuck with my parents.

* * *

><p><span>Frostbite<span>

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 7**

* * *

><p>When Bumblebee onlined from whatever drug Ratchet had given him, his processor was running at full capacity while his limbs dragged drastically behind. He would have panicked, if it weren't for the silent form of Ratchet himself his scanners picked up. He wasn't in danger and wanted as little contact as possible with the medic.<p>

An active processor meant a lot of time to think, but Bumblebee was unable to come up with a conclusion as to _why_ Ratchet had kept Sam a secret. Or what he had done to keep the teen (if he still was one) from aging. Was that even truly the Sam he knew, what if it was a clone with Sam's memories?

But cloning had never been something the scientists on Cybertron had dwelled into, not being organic, and human technology on the subject was faulty. The Sam he saw was too perfect a match to his memory to be fake. Which meant he was real, and when it cam down to it, that was all that mattered.

Ratchet shuffled into view and Bumblebee's chemical sensors picked up the concentration of salt and diesel that hovered around the ferry docks. Slowly, the scout pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Why?" he asked brokenly, voice modulator scratching up the word.

Ratchet didn't answer, didn't look at him, just walked across his field of vision. Bumblebee followed his track, glaring lasers at the medic's back. Ratchet hunched over, feeling the attack.

A set of ID tags crossed his HUD, announcing the rest of the Autobots' presence. Bumblebee watched Ratchet straighten, wiping his body language clear of the guilt hanging off his frame.

Prime led the way, Jolt driving behind him, and the rest of the task force a minute behind but gaining. Bumblebee felt a surge of connection to them all, of belonging. But also a pain that was all the more painful for the knowledge that they didn't believe him. Them, his 'family'.

It was a word he had learned here on Earth, perhaps his favorite. The concept wasn't new to him, but it seemed to run deeper and stronger here amongst organics. It branched through generations, was a tying bond, and wasn't limited to blood. If any of them disappeared, he would want whatever information he could. They still held out hope for many MIA Autobots.

Would Ron and Judy want to know about Sam being alive? Mikaela? They had thought Sam was dead, never had a sliver of hope to grasp on to. They had all moved on with their lives, Mikaela was even married now with three kids. Should he disrupt his human family after all the pain they went through 23 years ago? It had taken them years to over come the pain of Sam's 'death' and he himself was rattled. Exuberant. Confused. Was he glad to find out Sam was alive? Yes. Would his humans? Yes.

He'd tell them when he got back to the States, hopefully with Sam in tow.

* * *

><p>He felt his phone vibrate as he exited the ferry. Digging into his pocket he found the number to be blocked. He hesitated before pressing talk, wary of hearing an Autobot on the other end.<p>

"Hello?"

"Kid?"

"Seymour?"

"They know where you are, you gotta leave."

"I know, I know." He ran a hand through his hair. "Megs had the island under his watch for a month. We just got liberated. I'm actually on my way to you now." He edged between an Audi and a smart car while walking across the parking lot at the ferry's mainland dock.

"Negative. One of them called me, I couldn't tell whether is was a Con or a Bot, let alone any NBE in particular," Seymour let out a tense sigh. "I'd hate it if they got you again."

"Yeah, no kidding. If that tracer I have doesn't show any movement - "

"If it comes to that, I know what to do." The sound of paper shuffling came through the phone. "You know that first safe house I told you about?"

"Yeah?" He ducked down, looking around a pick-up truck towards a group of military men hanging around a tow truck.

"Meet me there."

"Got it." He let a grin spread over his face, hanging with aliens always gave him an adrenaline rush.

"And Sam?"

He made a noise to prove he was listening, but quickly got distracted by vibrations emanating from the pick-up.

"Be careful, okay?"

The pick-up split apart at invisible seams, revealing a mech with a face containing four eyes, a blocky nose, and red eyes.

"It might be a bit late for that Seymour," he said, slowly backing up. The tow truck near the military men also unfolded, revealing itself to be an Aubtobot and the humans to be NEST soldiers. They were rushing towards him, but the Con already had a hand around his waist.

"We thought you were dead," the Con said, voice low and gravely.

"Sam? Sam!" Seymour's voice shouted from his phone before a dial tone took over. The Con had ended the call.

"Put the human down!" the unknown Autobot ordered, but the Con didn't listen. Instead, he tightened his grip as he looked up. An Ospry chopper was coming toward them, and judging by the Autobot's face it was another Decepticon.

"Nice of you to show up, Blademaster." The pick-up said condescendingly.

"Nah, nah, shut up Dropkick." The helicopter shot back.

Dropkick released a grapple out of his forearm and it wrapped around the Osprey's runners. Engines whining, Blademaster pulled up and left the ground disappearing beneath him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** A lot of you weren't sure who made the call to Simmons, but hopefully you've figured it out now. Blademaster and Dropkick are not OCs, they're canon characters from the books. As is the tow-truck who's called Long Arm.

Reviews are lovely!


	8. Chapter 8

Frostbite

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 8**

* * *

><p>The air was tense between Bumblebee and Ratchet when he returned, but Prime threw it aside. Come tomorrow Bumblebee would see sense and all would be well again. He was surprised to see the scout acting up like this. There must have been a human in the village that looked a lot like Sam.<p>

An alert popped-up on his HUD, his soldiers all getting the same notification that Starscream and Megatron were on their way. They couldn't be planning on fighting, the Cons had lost just hours ago and it was doubtful they had repaired enough for round two.

No, something was up. Prime's certainty in the thought increased at the smug grin lighting Megatron's faceplates when he landed a safe distance away. At the same time, he got a message from Long Arm that he set aside to look at later.

"I'm surprised you've kept something like this a secret for so long." The Decepticon leader said.

Prime opened his subspace pocket, but didn't pull out his rifle. "Kept what a secret, Megatron?"

"Your human pet. What was his name, Steve?"

The gunformer made a gesture to Starscream urging him to take a step forward. The seeker activated his hologram, and between the two fractions an actual size image of Dropkick appeared. There was a human in his hand.

"Let me go!" the man was shouting, wiggling in an attempt to free his arms. He sounded and looked like Sam, no doubt the look-alike Bumblebee spotted earlier. The resemblance was uncanny, no wonder the scout had accused Ratchet.

"Let the human go, Megatron," Prime ordered after Starscream muted the hologram. The human continued to squirm and no doubt swear at his captor, looking down at something below him occasionally.

"Ah, I don't think so. You've obviously done something to the boy, trained him well. He disabled Dropkick's other hand."

Prime noticed Bumblebee clench his own hands, dried fluids from battle flaking off one of them.

Megatron continued, either unnoticing or uncaring of the hostility growing around him. "He's made no promises of retribution by your Autobots, Prime. In fact, he seems quite adamant to put a great deal of distance between you and him. Some fear of 'being frozen again' I think he said."

Starscream turned the volume on the hologram up again.

"I swear to Primus," the human was saying, "as soon as I get a hand free I'm gonna tear your spark into so many piece it won't be able to make it to the Well! Ironhide can blow your arm off, but I can hack your processor so bad – " the sound muted again.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker shared a look, but Prime dismissed it. "Why are you making this up Megatron? Sam died. You killed him yourself."

"Last I remember, he came back to revive you." Megatron snarled. "Seems the fleshlings found a way to prolong his life."

"That's not Sam." It couldn't be. Prime refused to look at Ratchet, scared of what he might see on his friend's face.

"I think our medic would disagree. Bone structure, voiceprint, they all match your little pet. But that still doesn't explain why he wants nothing to do with you."

Starscream uploaded a file into an open fourm. Prime, finally, slowly, turned towards his CMO. "Ratchet?" He could tell the SUV was doing his best to keep his face blank, but his chin still trembled and his EM field was off.

The medic downloaded the file and opened his oral plates a few times before answering. "Yes, that's Sam."

Disbelieving silence settled over Prime and most of his soldiers. Bumblebee shut his optics, while Optimus could do nothing but stare at Ratchet.

"I have no plans on simply releasing him to you of course," Megatron spoke. "I want the island."

With that, Starscream turned off his hologram and the two Decepticons took to the sky without waiting for a response.

* * *

><p>Sideswipe was the one to break the silence first. "So…that human you had on ice under the floor in the back room, that was Sam?"<p>

Ratchet flinched as most of the Autobots snapped their heads from the red twin to the medic. Bumblebee whirled on Sideswipe.

"You knew Sam was alive and didn't do anything?"

"Whoa! Easy!" Sideswipe stepped back and raised his hands in defense. "We just saw a human, I didn't realize that was Sam!"

"And what were you doing in that part of my med bay?" Ratchet weakly barked.

"We were looking for wax," Sunstreaker spoke up.

"The wax isn't anywhere near there!" Ratchet threw up his hands.

"The better question, is why was Sam there in the first place?" Prime took a couple steps towards Ratchet and crossed his arms. Jolt got out of the way.

The medic took a step back, feeling crowded all of a sudden. He stopped when he felt the heat of Ironhide's guns from behind him, still cooling from their recent battle but not needed much time to recharge. Ratchet noticed Bumblbee move too from the corner of his optics. "I…thought you understood." He told Prime.

"Understood what, Ratchet?"

"Why I froze him for all those years."

"And why would I do that?" Prime pressed.

Ratchet took another half step backwards, acutely aware of Ironhide's presence behind him. "Because Sam escaped fived years ago, someone let him out. And no one said anything…"

"And?"

"And I figured anyone who did that would inform you, and since you didn't mention it to me-"

"You assumed I was okay with it." It was a sentence, cool and frightening in its blankness, but Ratchet felt a need to nod anyway.

"Why?" Bumblebee screeched, trembling all over hard enough his outer plating clanked. Ratchet expected the scout to attack him again, and was unable to tell if the lack of violence was Bumblebee still recovering from the narcotic he had received or was fighting a desire to take off after Megatron.

"Well, it kept him out of the Con's grips."

"Ratchet," Prime chastised, voice still blank. Which meant he was doing his best to hide his anger, block it, and not do something drastic.

It was the idea that Prime was so angry he couldn't show it, had to hold all this emotions back – be they disappointment, hurt, betrayal, or sadness - that made Ratchet curl in on himself. This forced detachment, this blankness to counteract negative feelings, made him realize just how much he hurt his friend. How wrong he was about Prime's mindset. It was a drastic misjudgment on his part and one that would haunt his interactions with Prime for vorns.

"Sam had…absorbed the All Spark. Organic brains can't handle the information all at once. I was hoping that…by keeping Sam in a cryogenic chamber would prolong his life and enable him to gain access to all the information slowly…before he expired."

"You wanted something in particular," Jolt stated, not really accusing but trying to understand. As his apprentice, the Chevy knew him too well. "Did you get it?"

"No."

"You couldn't tell us what you were planning?" Bumblebee took a step toward him, but Sideswipe's hand on the scout's shoulder prevented him from moving any further. The twin was looking at Prime, watching for some set of clue that said he could let the scout loose. It didn't come, and for that Ratchet was glad.

"I…didn't think you would understand."

"So you were selfish. Again."

Prime's remark struck deep. Ratchet clamped his outer panels together and transferred his gaze to the ground. Silence reigned again, and Ratchet could feel everyone's optics on his frame.

"We're going after Sam," Bumblebee left no argument in his voice.

Prime turned, effectively ignoring Ratchet and the other Autobots gathered in a planning circle, the medic left on the outside. He made no effort to join it. Instead he transformed into the ambulance he now used as an alt form to be as unobtrusive as possible.

"Yes, we are," Prime said. "It is not right to leave any human in Megatron's grip. Especially Sam, who has done so much for us.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy Kwanza! Or what ever you celebrate. And even if you don't celebrate anything right now, you get a gift for your unbirthday.

So, so sorry you guys haven't had a chapter in a while. I'm sure several of you guys have had dreams of holding a gun to my head and ordering me to update. But look! I updated! Just for you guys (truly, I'm missing out on family time getting this up and ready for you, but it's really just washing dishes and watching football so I guess it's not that important...). 

I hope you get other things that you want too and have lots of eggnog and cookies and delicious meat. Mmm, meat.

I'm still holding out for snow, we don't have any yet, but there's still 11 hours for it to fall ^_^


	9. Chapter 9

Frostbite

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 9**

* * *

><p>"So tell me again," Megatron drawled, leaning backwards against a wall of the abandoned factory, "why did they do this to you?"<p>

The human in front of him crossed his arms over his chest. It was a lot bolder now that it had been in Mission City. It even looked him in the optics.

"I'm not saying."

"Not saying because you don't want to, or because you don't have the answer because they never told you?"

The organic's eyes flashed, and Megatron could tell he hit a sensitive spot.

"Ah, certainly you could take a guess?"

Again, the human did nothing but glare.

"Well then, I have a few. I think you're a weapon."

"And what makes you think that?"

"You've obviously been through genetic modification, Starscream tells me your brain patterns share a remarkable similarity to the frequency the All Spark emitted, and my failure to see any signs of your existence for the past twenty some of your Earth years tell me your present condition is, or rather was, a secret. And what does one keep a secret in war time other than something that a weapon?"

He leaned forward, towering over the human who refused to show any outward sign of fear. To bad most of his soldiers couldn't do the same. Maybe he'd ask Starscream if the meatbag's spark could be transferred to a Cybertronian frame.

"They've been saving you for something and I want to know what. And what exactly you can do."

"I can kick your ass."

Megatron keened back and laughed. "You're no taller than my treads!"

"Doesn't mean anything. The All Spark was tiny too, wasn't it?"

Megatron spiraled in the aperture of his optics. "You honestly think you can take me on?"

The human just stared at him, posture cocky, with a look in his eyes that would have had some of the lower ranked Decepticons flee.

"Let's put that to the test."

* * *

><p>In the entire time it took to get all the Autobots off Samsoe Island not a single one looked his way. No angry glance, no bitter look, nor a sympathetic one. Not that he expected the latter.<p>

Ratchet had already been hit by Bumblebee once and had been waiting for at least some other type of physical confrontation. And he wasn't being scorned. It was as if he didn't exist, was just a pole in a room that others ignored and moved around automatically. As if as soon as his secret had come to light, his own presence had disappeared to become a secret known only to himself.

It hurt. More than he thought it would.

He had fantasies about similar situations; telling Prime and the others himself, someone discovering Sam and revealing his lie, showing off a sparkling. But each had ended with his fellow Autobots understanding Ratchet's point of view, seeing the benefits being frozen had given to Sam. Things all worked out.

Too bad it didn't function like that in real life.

And so maybe it was selfish yet again, not even a full day of non-existence and he was already lonely, but it would help many others too. They could all be happy and he would not be as invisible if he personally could retrieve Sam. It wouldn't fix everything, just be a step in the right direction. He was a medic; it was in his programming to fix things. Even if the problem wasn't mechanical.

* * *

><p>"Hello?"<p>

He hadn't received a call from another NBE, but Simmons kept expecting one and had answered every call he received with suspicion and hostility. Which didn't go over very well with the agents of the airline he was trying to book tickets to Denmark with.

"Whoa there Seymour! I just got your message, sorry if you were expecting me to respond sooner. But it's no problem, I'll check up on your house from tine to time."

"Thanks Doug, you're a good neighbor." Simmons cocked the phone between his shoulder and ear so he could use both hands to zip his suitcase closed. "I shouldn't be gone much more than a week. Sorry for the late notice."

"No problem, it's really no big deal."

"Thanks anyway." Simmons hung up and started down the stairs. As he was walking through the door his phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Agent Simmons?" It was the same NBE from before, as far as he could tell, but it seemed almost hesitant while before the voice had been demanding.

"Maybe."

"I need to know where Sam is. Right now, this very minute. I know you have a tracer on him."

"How did – never mind, you hacked his phone didn't you. God damn alien robots! I'm not telling you anything, you hear? Nothing!"

There was a sigh from the other end. "Megatron captured Sam. We need to know where he is in order to get him back."

Simmons paled. His last conversation with Sam had been cut off rather quickly. And there had been that, by now familiar, sound of a NBE switching forms. He dug in the laptop case strung over his shoulder and pulled out a device from the side pocket. It tracked Sam's position, and while the dot representing the kid wasn't moving, the numbers across the bottom of the screen had him going back and forth between two spots at a constant speed.

"Prove it." Simmons said.

A sound clip played through his phone. "Let Sam go, Megatron," a voice that might belong to the Autobot Prime said.

"Ah, I don't think so," Megatron answered. Simmons knew that voice. It had rung through his head in Hoover Dam and would ever stay with him.

"How do I know you're not lying?" He asked the NBE.

"You don't, you'll have to trust me."

Which is the one thing he didn't want to do. But he knew something was going down in Denmark, having a frenemy keep track of Sam until he was there was the best he could do from the States.

"When I get to Denmark, you'll hand Sam off to me."

"If he wishes."

"Oh, he will. Trust me."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, look at that! A chapter! So sorry it took so long .


	10. Chapter 10

Frostbite

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 10  
><strong>

* * *

><p>After hanging up with Simmons Ratchet quietly started his engine and pulled out of the parking lot the rest of the Autobots were recharging in. After the battle with the Deceptions, they were all drained and needed to give their fuel cells a chance to recover.<p>

Now was the time to leave, follow the signal of the tracker Simmons had given him the frequency for, and use it to find Sam. Make things right. The human wasn't that far away.

A hour after leaving the parking lot there was a tremendous roar of an engine, followed by a yellow blur on his right side. Bumblebee executed a sharp ninty degree turn and then transformed, arms crossed. Looking at his scanner alert, Ratchet realized the scout had been following him for a while, but he failed to register the readings he scans had been giving him.

They stayed that way for a moment, Ratchet still in his alt form ideling a couple yards away from Bumlebee's feet, the Sypder looking down at him. After awhile, it became apparent Bee didn't want to speak to him, but was demanding an explanation anyway. It was strange, being ordered around by the youngest member of the group and feeling as if there was no other option but to obey.

"I'm going after Sam, I know where he is."

The scout's face hardened. "How do I know you aren't making that up?"

Ratchet sighed, this was the second time he had been asked such a question in the last couple of hours and the worst part was he knew he deserved it. The authority he had as a medic and disappeared so quickly and he felt smaller than Ravenge.

"I called Agent Simmons. He's been in contact with Sam and they thought Sam should have a tracker installed, just in case. " He posted a file on their comm network and watched as Bumblebee's eyes dimmed as he looked over the data. The scout turned his head in the direction the signal said Sam was.

"Why didn't you tell Prime?"

"I just found out." Ratchet's voice quietly took on a hysterical, you-have-to-believe-me tone.

"And so you decided to get him back on your own." When had Bee developed such a cold tone, one that made Megatron's verbal smears seem equator hot? "I don't think so."

Ratchet tensed, waiting for the scout to force him back to the others. Bumblebee didn't have the force to do so however, and Ratchet couldn't decide if it would be worth the fight or not. He'd win, but attacking a team member would not help his situation. Maybe Bee would just let Prime know.

Bumblebee however made a different decision; he transformed back into his Spyder alt and took off down the road in the direction of Sam. Ratchet didn't know if he should be thankful or not, but he wasn't entirely surprised. Sam and Bee had been close, and Bee took his job as guardian seriously. Nothing would stop him from getting to Sam's side as quickly as he could. But he supposed he was glad for the help. It would have been hard taking on all the Deceptions near were Sam was.

* * *

><p>The test Megatron decided to put him through was a lot like an old fashioned gladiator match. But even those old Roman prisoners didn't face someone so much larger than themselves.<p>

But then again, it was the size difference right now that was to his advantage. Dropkick wasn't the largest Con, and his legs were covered in bits that stuck out which made them easy to climb. And the demented wanna-be-doorwings were easy to tackle too. The hard part was that the pickup truck was a range fighter. As soon as Megatron said fight, he had transformed his wrists into the Cybertronian equivalent of machine guns. Which meant a faster reload and larger artillery.

"Get back here human!" the pickup bellowed.

But said human ignored him with a smile on his face as he hid in the dust cloud all the shooting had caused. If he could only get to Dropkick's feet…

He noticed the telltale shifts in the Con's arms, subtle things he doubted any Cybertronian could read, and made a run for it, zig-zagging towards the giant metal feet. He kept watching Dropkick's torso, more particularly the pistons that controlled his horizontal movement. It allowed him to stay just ahead of the next bullet.

"Come on, come on," he muttered to himself, a monologue to keep him going. It had taken him awhile to get fit after escaping from the Autobots and just made sense to keep up a fitness routine for the past ten years. He was really glad he had, otherwise all the little behavior tricks he knew thanks to the All Spark would have meant nothing.

He hadn't been lying when he told Megatron he could take him on, just failed to mention under what conditions. Physically, he'd lose. Even now, there was no way he could keep up his bullet dodging pace. And it was ridiculously easy for any Cybertronian to kill him; a shot from any type of gun, squashed by feet or hands, pancaked if one fell on you (which he was really glad he escaped earlier), and even coming in contact with their blood could surely poison him.

Throwing himself to the side, he went into a barrel roll to avoid being shot at from the other handgun Dropkick utilized. A quick look upward showed Megatron leaning forward, hands on his knees and eye alight with an amused glow.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, ducking reflexively as a bullet went wising past his ear. He put a hand up to his head and felt blood dripping down the side of his head from a cut he didn't even realize he had. It most likely came from the pieces of the floor Dropkick's bullets were sending everywhere. Right, he really needed to focus solely on Dropkick and not worry about Megatron. Yet.

Fluidly, he transferred to a sprinter's start position and after a quick look at the pickup's torso pistons took off circling the Con to the right.

Dropkick sputtered, the Con had been expecting him to go the other direction. Which was what he had been planning on. It was a quick climb from the pickup's heel to the base of his neck.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. It was a normal phone, containing a web cam, apps, and a data plan. But being the receptacle of all the All Spark's knowledge made him a computer genius and he had built a specialized application for his phone to be used on Cybertronians.

The All Spark had essentially been one huge hard drive, containing everything ever written on Cybertron. It had history text books, personal journals, photographs, and sets of laws. It was a lot of information, so much so that when he thought of it all he was prone to panic. But the information itself never flooded his brain, only came to the forefront of his mind when he asked. It was as if his subconscious was the entire Internet and his active mind was Googlezon.

Except his personal Internet wasn't up to date. When the All Spark had been launched into space it had lost contact with the planet of Cybertron. It was an ejected drive, an old (and for many files only) copy.

But some things don't change much.

Like the code of each and every Cybertronian.

Hard core programming, self created algorithms and software, internal codes, he knew all of them. And the medical back doors. And the not so legit ones. Ever time a Cybertronian had tapped into the planet for information or energy the All Spark had updated it's knowledge of that mech or femme. He knew the code of every Autobot, Neutral, and Decepticon. Knew what areas were faulty, knew how to get past firewalls, knew how to hack every system from memory to organs. He could rewrite personalities, make them think and behave the way he wanted them to, shut them down – permanently.

If he got the access, he could make Megatron think he was Optimus's new born sparkling, have him surrender and end the war, or simply kill him. It had been a thought he had contemplated once – hunt down all the Autobots and make them pay for what they did to him, and then continue onto the Decepticons and wipe out the entirety of the Cybertronian race. He could do it. If he got to their access ports before being squished.

But all that death…he decided he didn't want a hand in it. It was a thought of revenge, but never a plan he could carry out. Killing was something he could never do, no matter what had been done to him.

Plus, going back and taking revenge would mean having to face the Autobots at some point, and that scared him. If he never got access to their ports, didn't get the chance to change their code, they could freeze him again. They had taken away a huge chunk of his life; his time with Seymour made him realize they might come back for him and take the rest of it.

So with one life taken he had set out to start a new one. He was dead in the world's eyes, just as the trusting, scared, wanting to be normal teen had died in his mind. His new world was full of suspicion of technology, most of his gadgets he had put together himself. He didn't look for normalcy, but tried to hide behind it. He became Sal.

And now the Autobots had taken his life again, everything went to the Pit when they arrived. He burned bridges, buried life number two, and had hoped to start three before a couple of Decepticons took him. One of which he was currently prying loose the cover of his access port.

He plugged in the cable that extended from the bottom of his phone, watching as the Cybertronian text filled the screen. Dropkick had made adjustments to his code since the All Spark had last connected with him, but nothing major. A few slight adjustments and he had the code changes he needed. He typed away on his phone, having no problem with the Cybertronrian keyboard he was using, and pressed enter.

Dropkick's systems stalled, the new code on the phone replacing that of his main cerebral unit. The mech's joints locked, his optics went dim, and then he pitched forward.

When the dust settled, the Con was out cold while the memories of the war were being purged from his data banks. Standing on the pickup's back, pressing buttons on his phone, was a human who stood tall and didn't notice the cuts and scrapes on his body.

"I can hack you in even less time Megatron." He said, staring coldly at the gray mech.

The Decepticon Commander shrunk he aperture of his optics. "So they did turn you into a weapon."

"No," he said, stepping off of Dropkick's body without breaking eye contact with Megatron. He didn't even stumble, he knew the specs of Dropkick's body and knew where it was okay to step. "A protector."

"Of what? Silly Autobot morals? Of humans?"

"Of what the All Spark's always been concerned about – life. This war has destroyed so much of it and so I'll just have to protect it and save your stupid race."

Megatron laughed. Starscream bristled behind his leader.

"What are you saying, fleshing? That you are the All Spark?"

The All Spark. He stopped and thought about that. New life, new goals, new name. All Spark was as good as any, if long.

"Yes. But you can call me Spike for short."

* * *

><p>When Dropkick woke up it was discovered all his memories of the War were gone. As was the reasoning behind his choice of fighting for the Decepticons. Starscream had filled the pickup truck in, only to have him declare himself as a Neutral.<p>

Megatron was highly tempted to slag him, but for the moment the mech was in their temporary brig. He could use all the mechs he could get in the War, especially now when forces were small and spread thin. Starscream would turn Dropkick around.

It was proof of how powerful the Autobots had made their pet human. Megatron still wasn't sure what exactly the human did, but figured it had to be some type of hack. But it had been so quick, the meat maggot had to have known _how_ to hack Dropkick before he did.

Which was crazy. A mech's code was guarded, never revealed. Too much could happen if the information got out. Like this. Thank Primus the human's attempt to get to his own data port had been halted. It had been a valiant, if stupid plan. But he had to admit, at least to himself, he fleshwad had bearings. Not many of his won mechs would try such a thing, and they were not at such a significant size disadvantage.

Megatron briefly contemplated keeping the fleshy alive just to see a match between the meatbag and Soundwave, but tossed the thought aside. As amusing as that would be, it meant keeping the human alive for more time than he was comfortable with. If there was anything being the leader of the Decepticons had taught him, it was that needlessly keeping mechs alive tended to result in those mechs coming back. Killing kept things simple and easy; no more nuisances and it cowed the others. Killing the human would do the same.

But the ones to learn from the killing, those soft Autobots, weren't around to watch. So the human got to live. For a little longer. Till the morning anyway, when Megatron would crush the fleshling between his fingers in front of Prime himself.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Eh hehe. It's been a much longer time than I expected before I updated. I actually had a whole bunch typed up before I left for Ethiopia, but never got around to posting it all. And once I was in country, Internet was discovered to be scare. And I'll admit, I'm a little wary of posting stories at an Internet cafe. My other Peace Corps Trainees can see what I'm doing, and I'm not ready to admit I write fanfiction to most of them.

But yes, here's your update, and if all goes according to plan (and they only halfway do here) you'll have another update soon.


	11. Chapter 11

Frostbite

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 11**

* * *

><p>The white lines fell behind him so quickly they blurred into a hazy line. Each segment passed meant he was that much closer to Sam, and Sam was that much closer to safety. Bumblebee was surprised Ratchet was keeping up, but he could hear the older mech's engines whining.<p>

Seriously, what had the medic been thinking? That rescuing Sam would magically make everything better? There was no way that would work. After everything that Ratchet had done, Sam would never go anywhere with the medic. And Bee didn't trust Ratchet with his human anyway.

No, what Sam needed was someone to keep him safe, a guardian. Bee hadn't done a good job of that, allowing his own medic to steal his charge, but this time it would be better. He'd never let Sam out of his sight again, they'd go visit Ron and Judy amidst lots of happy tears, and Sam would be his again. Friends for life.

Sam's signal hadn't moved much; it was still on the same point on the map. But Simmons tracker was sensitive to pick up Sam crossing a room. From Sam's steps Bee had developed a rudimentary floor plan. The location was a large open area and then in one corner a smaller room where it seemed Sam spent most of his time.

Bumblebee guessed Sam was sleeping at the moment – the signal hadn't moved in a couple of hours and the sun had set hours ago. He figured he'd be there come early morning. With or without Ratchet, if the medic could keep up.

He roared his aggression through his engine. Having Ratchet with him was bothersome, it meant he had something extra to look out for – the medic taking Sam and running.

It was so unlike Ratchet, to do something like this. Fake a death, freeze a human. Ratchet was always one to take the easiest route, and this whole deception had to have been complex to plan and sustain. How had Ratchet done it? Looked them all in the optics afterwords? And think Prime understood?

Maybe something had happened during Egypt that messed with Ratchet's programming and allowed him to do this. Because why else would he orchestrate such a betrayal?

His engine whined, voicing his pain, and he didn't really care if Ratchet could hear it. It was too much to think about, how hurt and oh so very angry he was. And it was a distraction, taking processing power away from trying to come up with a solution to help Sam. And that was the priority now.

Prime was going to scold him, he could tell. Protocol dictated that he tell Prime what he knew. But when Sam was at school and he had waited to act until Prime set the plan in motion, they had cut it really close. They had arrive seconds before Sam would have been killed, and Bee wasn't going to take that chance tonight. He had sent Prime a message, one that he would see when he woke up.

His punishment, as well as Ratchet's, could be dealt with after Sam was safe. They had to find him and get him out of the Con's base.

As early morning came, Sam's tracker moved. He was heading in his direction, following the road. He always knew Sam was clever, and he had obviously picked up some skills to be able to escape. As useful as those skill were though, it made Bee wonder about why he had learned them.

Bumblebee rounded a corner, exiting a forest and coming across an expanse of flat land. His optics scanned for Sam, but what he saw instead was a convoy of Decepticons. They must have masked their Ids.

The Con's all transformed, Starscream hurtling down from the sky. Megatron held his hand out in front of him, and Bumblebee saw a struggling human in his grasp.

"So glad you came in time to enjoy the show," Megatron said. "You've saved us the trouble of further traveling."

Ratchet pulled up next to Bee and at some silent cue the both transformed.

"Glad you brought a medic, bug." Barricade sneered, "You're gonna need him."

Bee revved his engine in response, eyes still on a struggling Sam who refused to meet his gaze. Megatron's grip was tight, clamping Sam's arms to his side.

"This human however," Megatron drawled, "will be too far gone for a medic."

The Decepticon squeezed and Bee's spark skipped at the sound of crunching bones.

* * *

><p>Right, it might have been a stupid idea to attack Megatron without the element of surprise. And when he was surrounded by a bunch of his Decepticon followers. But hey, he got points for trying right?<p>

But apparently Decepticons didn't believe in points because he got thrown in a crate with a pad locked door. Without food. When he got free, he was going to raid a grocery store – buy two carts full of food and eat it all in the parking lot.

As good as food was, it wasn't the most important thing on his mind at the moment. Megatron's grip was tight, unpleasantly so, and when Bee and Ratchet appeared the Decepticon squeezed harder. Spike bit back a cry as he felt his left arm break, feeling blood burst in his mouth as he bit through his lip.

While he wasn't happy to see the Autobots, they were helpful in distracting Megatron. He had been inching his right hand to where he knew the gray mech's hydraulic lines were, and the ruckus caused by Bee and Ratchet as Megatron squeezed him gave Spike the opportunity he needed. Slipping his hand between two plates, Spike found the lines and yanked.

Fluid spilled over his hand to run down his legs. The damage was enough to render the hand useless, and Megatron was forced to drop him.

"You insect!" Megatron roared, lifting a foot to crush Spike as he came out of a roll. Before he could complete the action Bumblebee charge Megatron, knocking the tyrant backwards.

Spike continued to roll, heading back toward the temporary base as the Cons ran by him to attack Bee and Ratchet. Starscream took off for the sky, Thrust behind him. They didn't shoot, and Spike couldn't tell if they couldn't get a lock on a Bot or were avoiding the melee.

Sparing the time to look at Megatron, he caught the gray mech firing a shot at Bee that caught the scout in the shoulder, sending him to the ground. Spike winced, torn between an old Sal wanting to run away and an older Sam wanting to rush to his friend's aid. He didn't really get a chance to do either. A metal foot came at him from behind, sending him flying into one of the trees surrounding the area. His back hit the bark painfully, and he landed in a heap among the roots to stare at an approaching Blademaster.

"Sam!" Ratchet called, charging into the scene. The medic extended a buzz saw that cut through Bladmaster's rotors. The Osprey turned, landing a punch on Ratchet's torso and denting plating. Ratchet grunted and then swung his other arm around to attack the Con with the other saw.

Now in possession of a full lungful of air, Spike took off into the forest and ran parallel to the road. Let the Bots and Cons fight it out, he really couldn't help in this battle. With so much movement it would be hard to predict everyone's actions, and his broken arm limited his motions. Participating would most likely lead to his death.

Or recapture by the Autobots.

His new goal may be to stop the War, but it there was no way he could do that if he was frozen or dead for real.

It was a small hope, but he would really appreciate it if someone in a car could come by and allow him to hitchhike, it would be faster than getting to Copenhagen on foot.

There was an explosion behind him. Spike skidded to a stop and looked back, throwing a prayer to Primus that Bee wasn't seriously injured (and maybe Ratchet too) before pulling out his phone to check his GPS. That finding a car thing was going to be a miracle and it would be way too easy for him to be spotted on the road, by either an Autobot or a Decepticon.

He could cut through the woods, there was a small local highway five miles to the west that he should be able to hitchhike from. Spike headed towards it.

It didn't work out quite like he expected. Halfway through a clearing, Ratchet caught up with him.

* * *

><p>"Sam," Ratchet said gently, stepping into the clearing with his hands spread out. "Sam, we need to get out of here."<p>

"Don't call me that!" Sam snapped, crouching into a running position. "And there's no way in Hell I'm going any where with you!"

Ratchet froze in an attempt to prevent the human from leaving. "I'm sorry for what I did Sam-"

"I said don't call me that!" he yelled again, clenching his right hand into a fist. Ratchet noticed that the left one was broken, though Sam didn't seem to be favoring it too much.

Ratchet threw his hands up, bringing them even with his chest and hopefully correctly performed a nonverbal communication that he'd seen around base that was usually used to calm people down. Sam did not cool down however; he marched towards him and the medic found himself taking steps back.

"You guys faked my death, and them kept me frozen in some type of underground prison. My entire life, you took it away Ratchet! And now you took this one too!" Sam threw his arms up and began an angry pace, waving his unbroken arm around. "You took away my free will, kept me isolated, and did nothing but ask me question after question when I woke up. I can't believe you guys did that! What about all that talk of the right of everyone to choose. I don't even know why."

He stopped, chest heaving from his outburst. For a moment the sounds of him breathing were the only ones in the clearing. Suddenly, Ratchet wanted to be around Autobots who ignored him again, because seeing Sam _hurt_ like nothing else had. Hearing the pain in his voice, it was obvious how much damage Ratchet had done. He sounded defeated, angry, and also sad. And he had every right too.

"You know what, forget it Ratchet. Just forget it." Sam made to turn around and desperate to fix something, or at least hold the wound closed, Ratchet spoke up.

"A sparkling. I wanted a sparkling."

"A sparkling." Sam deadpanned. "And how does you wanting a kid relate to me being your prisoner?"

The words stung. He never really gave though to the conditions he kept Sam in. The human was alive and well taken care of – considering the situation. The idea of Sam as a prisoner had never crossed his processor.

"I…didn't want the information from the All Spark to overwhelm your brain. And…I didn't think you would help if I asked, so I hoped that maybe, we, could use the time to get to know each other better…" Ratchet trailed off at the storm clouds gathering across Sam's brow.

"You do realize you pretty much did _exactly_ the right thing to make sure I'll never help you?"

"…"

It hadn't been the most perfectly executed of plans, nor perhaps the best thought out. It had come to him in a flash on the sands of Egypt when he saw Sam die and come back to life. The pesky details came later, after Sam had been deposited in his care. But he had never been good at making friends. Acquaintances yes, but not too many friends. Apparently asking science questions didn't cut it.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, it was longer than Ratchet remembered it being. "Wouldn't have mattered anyway," the man said.

Ratchet opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Bumblebee bursting through the trees and transforming to his alt form.

"We gotta go. I managed to delay the Cons but I don't know how long that will last. We need to leave, now. "

Ratchet turned back into his ambulance form and Sam turned around to run into the woods.

"Sam," Bee called, popping open the driver's side door. "Please. They'll catch you if you leave on foot."

The human hesitated, obviously not comfortable with getting in Bumblebee. Ratchet felt Con presence on his long range scanners.

"Sam, please." Bee begged.

Sam looked towards the woods, toward Bee, and then back towards the woods.

"Fine." He turned and sprinted for Bee, sliding into the seat.

The scout slammed his door shut and took off on a vector that would get them back to the road quickest. Ratchet took lead, using his buzz saws to clear a path. It didn't really help heal the rift between him and Sam, or him and Bumblebee. But it made him feel useful, just a little a bit. He focused on that and not tree roots under his bumper.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **And Sam and the Autobots have finally re-met! And yes, as I'm sure you could tell from this chapter, action scenes aren't my strong point. Nor are emotional ones. . I need a lot of work.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN:** All credit for this chapter goes to my sister, who yelled at me on skype and made me realize I have about double in my word document as I have posted here...

* * *

><p><span>Frostbite<span>

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 12**

* * *

><p>His most awkward car ride would have to be the time right after Bee's defeat of Barricade. He had just learned Satan's Camaro wasn't possessed, it was alive, and refused to sit in the drivers seat.<p>

This was a little like that, and if Bee's new alt mode had back doors Spike would have opened one of those to sit in the back seat. The ride was quite, the Cybertronian soundproofing preventing any noise from the speed the were going at to be heard. He didn't say anything, Bee kept the radio off.

Spike did his best to touch as little as possible. His legs were clamped together, he cradled his broken arm to his chest and clenched his shoulders inward, and he took care not to touch the back of the seat, the door, or the center consul.

He would have been fine with that, there wasn't anything he could say that wouldn't be passed on by Ratchet eventually. Spike thought he made it pretty clear he wasn't happy with what happened and that the Autobots were on his slag list. What more was there to say?

They had been driving for awhile now, long enough that Spike figured the Cons weren't following them, when Bee spoke.

"When I saw you on Samsoe, I couldn't believe it. You were supposed to be dead, I went to your funeral." Bee's voice trailed off.

"Knock it off Bee. There's no way Ratchet could have done it alone. You were all in on it."

Spike felt Bee's frame jolt. "No! Don't ever think that Sam! I didn't know, I swear! I was so angry when I found out I punched Ratchet."

So that's why Ratchet's face looked odd. Spike gave a small smile, but quickly hid it.

"Uh-huh."

"Honest Sam!"

"Don't call me that. I go by Spike now."

"Spike?"

"You changed your alt mode, why can't I change my name?"

They sat in silence for another minute, and while Spike continued to do his best to touch as little of Bee as possible it was getting hard. Despite the different alt mode, something about the scout's interior called to him, made him comfortable and slightly nostalgic. Like coming home after a year at school. Absently, without really knowing what he was doing, Spike lifted his hand to Bee's steering wheel and brushed his thumb over the Autobot symbol in the center.

"I missed you," Bee whispered. "A lot."

Spike filled his lungs with a huge breath and slowly released it.

"I…missed you too." Because under all the anger and betrayal, he still thought of Bee as a best friend.

A happy purr rippled through Bee's frame, starting in the engine and moving down the car until Spike found himself surrounded by the sound. He leaned back in the seat, which somehow seemed to pull him into a hug, keeping his hand on the bottom of the wheel and running his fingers over the hand grips.

"I really didn't help Ratchet Sa-" Bee caught himself on the name. "And I don't think anyone else did either. When Ratchet came out and told us what happened, everyone was shocked. I've never seen Prime so furious."

Spike didn't answer, just starred out of the window.

"Sam?"

"Spike," he automatically corrected, but he found he didn't mind being called 'Sam' by Bee. Seymour still called him that, and while 'Spike' sounded solid and strong in his head it sounded off coming from the Spyder.

"So, why the change in alt mode?"

"You died." The seat belt tightened protectively around him and Spike brushed his other hand along the strap to comfort the Cybertronian.

"Sorry."

"Not like it was your fault." Bee's voice took on a bitter tone, and Spike felt the calm mood he had slipped into start to tarnish. " I swear, when I get the chance I'm going to do more than punch Ratchet."

"You don't need to." He was angry at Ratchet, greatly so, but he couldn't bring himself to act on it. That was the funny thing about being the All Spark, with all the info he had access to it was hard _not_ to understand where anyone was coming from. But it didn't mean he didn't get angry.

"I want to," Bee growled.

Spike glanced up into the rear view mirror to look at Ratchet, they had passed him once they hit pavement. The ambulance looked dejected, low on his wheels and it seemed as if all his outer plating was being pressed as close as possible to his chassis. Ratchet obviously knew he had done something wrong, that was good enough for him at the moment. But he understood Bee's desire to do something about his anger, about the need to do something to its source. He wasn't going to prevent Bee from doing something the scout thought he needed to do.

After two hours, when Spike deemed they were well away from any Decepticon, Bee pulled through a drive-thru so Spike could snag breakfast. As they turned back onto the road to catch up to Ratchet (who had not made the side trip), he brought up his previous plans.

"Hey Bee, can you take me to Copenhagen?"

The Sypder sputtered and when Bee spoke he sounded hurt. "Don't you want to come with me? Prime and Ironhide were worried when we found out you were alive and in Megatron's hands. They're…probably even more so. Ratchet took off and I followed without truly telling them."

"No, I need to get to Copenhagen. If you need to get back to Prime, you can just drop me off at a train station."

"I can take you!" Bee sounded a touch hysterical, and Spike wondered if he was scared of letting him out of his sight. "What's in Copenhagen?"

"People." Bee was a friend and all, but Spike was still unsure around him. More so about any of the other Autobots. It wasn't that he didn't trust them…okay, maybe it was. Washing away hard feelings always took time, and he had simmered in his for twenty three years.

Spike was thankful Bumblebee took the silent hint and didn't ask for more details.

"You sure you don't want to see Prime first?" Bee sounded a touch hopeful.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Tell him no hard feelings though, okay?"

"Only if we go to a hospital and get a cast for that arm."

Spike's lips twitched in a smile and he looked down at his broken arm in his lap. "It doesn't hurt, and it's important I get there soon. Once there, I'll go."

"But-"

"No buts Bee."

He grumbled, but eventually muttered okay and Spike settled into the drivers seat to take a nap. It was quite a drive to the capital, and he hadn't gotten much rest the night before.

##

When Simmons stepped out of the cab a block before the safe house, but he could already tell there was car in the street in front of it. Flashy, super shiny, and way beyond the pay rate of anyone not a billionaire. It had to be an NBE. That yellow buggy Autobot most likely.

Simmons paid the cabbie and stood staring at the NBE while the taxi pulled away. He started walking towards the house, and when he was at the steps the NBE's door opened and out stepped a very disheveled Sam.

"Sam!" He pulled Sam behind him. With one hand making sure Sam wouldn't move, he used the other to pull out the gun in his waist band and point it at the NBE.

"Don't move or I'll shoot your tires out." However, he kept the gun pointed at the center of the dashboard through the open door.

Sam stepped around him and got in between the gun and the alien. "Whoa, easy Seymour. It's okay."

The NBE snapped his door shut and burned rubber pulling out into the street. Simmons and Sam both turned toward it and watched as it parked next to the curb across the street.

Simons narrowed his eyes at the car, but then put his gun away and grabbed Sam by the shoulders to pull him into a hug. The younger man brought an arm up to return the embrace and when they separated, Simmon's hands rested on Sam's upper arms as he looked him over.

"You okay, kid? They didn't do anything to you?"

Sam gave a lopsided shrug. "The Bots didn't, but Megatron broke my arm."

Simmons's eyes flickered to Sam's left arm. Gently he lighted it away from the other man's body to examine it. Sam winced, obviously discomforted by Simmons's handling. When he prodded Sam's forearm, the kid hissed in pain. The NBE across the street revved its engine in warning. Simmons flipped him the bird.

"Looks like you bit through your lip too. Why didn't you get this taken care of already?"

"I wanted to see you first."

Simmons shook his head and pulled out his phone. "I'm calling a cab and we're going to the hospital."

A screech of tires announced that the NBE had switched spots again. It was now sitting in it's original position in front of the safe house and had both doors open waiting for them.

"No," Sam said, guiding Simmons's phone down. "Can we talk first? Inside?"

The doors shut with a loud click and an engine whine, as if it was insulted but okay with it.

So, all wasn't peachy in Alien Land.

"Sure," he said, placing a hand on the small of Sam's back and gently pushing him up the stairs to the front door. "About what?"

"I picked a new name," Sam said with a cocky smile.

"Again? What is it?"

"Spike. Sparky sounded too much like a wuss."

##

There hadn't been much in the kitchen, just granola bars and a can of pineapple slices. But they went through it all as Spike caught Seymour up to date.

"So let me get this straight," Seymour said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, "Your new life is to be a wondering whatever, with the ultimate goal of hacking into Megatron's brain and writing a program to convince him to end the war?"

Spike nodded, absently playing with the splint Seymour had rigged for his arm. "Pretty much. I know it would be easier to just join up with NEST and the Autobots," he trailed off, not sure what to say, but Seymour nodded.

"I get it. Wouldn't want to join them either. They're all wackos anyway."

Spike snorted. "I know you used to work for them."

Seymour threw a wadded up wrapper at him and Spike laughed as it hit him in the chest.

"You're welcome to join me you know. 'One man, alone, abandoned by the country he loves.'" Spike smiled

"Watch it, kid. Plus, it fits you more than me at the moment." Seymour leaned back into the couch. "I'm too old anyway. I couldn't keep up with you."

Spike shook his head. "Doesn't mean you can't help me. I'll need to know where the Decepticons are, how to get there, and hopefully avoid the Autobots."

"Maybe, we'll see. But I think," Seymour placed his hands on his thighs to push himself up, "it's about time you got those bones set."

Spike looked down at his arm. "Yeah. That'd be good. You're not the best doctor I've meet." He pushed himself gingerly out of the armchair. "We might as well ride in Bee. He'd follow us anyway."

"I can't believe you trust him." Seymour shook his head.

"Well, I trust him enough to keep Ratchet away. And make sure I don't die again."

"Fair enough, I guess. But I can't say I feel the same." Seymour held open the door for Spike to walk out.

"I know. And I won't ask you to. The more pair of eyes on them the better."

Seymour grunted as they made their way down the stairs. Spike gently bumped him in the shoulder. When the older man looked at him, Spike flashed a smile. The agent just shook his head.

He really had been blessed in meeting Seymour. The past five years would have been really hard without the older man talking him through things and helping him find his feet again.

Bee was waiting for them outside and when they were close enough shrugged open his two doors. "The hospital, right?"

Spike looked at Seymour, who was glaring at the Autobot through narrowed eyes. But he nodded and walked around to the passenger side. "Yes, finally." He shot Spike a look as the young man slipped into the other seat. Spike rolled his eyes.

"I've had worse," he said over Bee's engine starting up.

"Still, you could have had Ratchet look at it," the scout suggested.

"No." Spike and Seymour said it at the same time, will all the weight of a cement block. Bee went silent, but then to cover it up had his radio play a top 40 station quietly.

Spike cleared his through. "Bee, I take it you remember Seymour Simmons. He's um…been looking after me the past couple of years."

"In that case, I want to thank you for doing that Simmons."

Seymour sunk down in the seat. "Well someone had to, after what you guys did."

"Ratchet acted alone - "

Simmons cut him off. "Alone?! You played a part too you know! That medic had Sam frozen for almost eighteen years. Eighteen years! How could you not notice all that time?"

Bee's engine choked and the music cut out halfway through a chorus Spike had humming along to.

"You know the condition he was in when he showed up at my door?"

"Seymour," Spike said, but the other man ignored it.

"He was so blind with dehydration he couldn't even see me when I was sitting next to him, couldn't drink a glass of water by himself. He kept trembling and it took days before he could walk." Seymour's voice got louder as he went along and he was waving his arms around. "He looked as close to death as someone could be without bleeding all over the floor."

"Hey," Spike cut in, "I'm fine now."

"No thanks to him," Simmons jerked his chin towards Bee's central console.

Spike didn't say anything, just shook his head. "How close are we to the hospital, Bee?"

The Autobot took a beat before answering. "Close. How's your arm holding up?"

He shrugged. "'bout the same, I've kinda turned out the pain for the last hour."

"I offered you pain meds." Seymour said.

"Yeah, well."

"Stupid hero-boy, it's going to bite you in the butt one of these days. Sooner rather than later."

"Not if you help me out," Spike sing-songed.

Seymour snorted.

Spike leaned over to bridge the gap between them and poked Seymour's shoulder with his finger. The ex-agent rolled his eyes, but didn't comment.

Bee pulled around the circle drive and stopped before the doors to the emergency room. Seymour pulled the door handle to get out, but the door stayed locked.

"I am sorry, truly." Bee's voice was low and Spike couldn't tell if it was an apology for him, Seymour, or both.

Spike's door clicked open and he steeped out. Bee kept Seymour's door locked, and Spike could hear what Bee said through the open driver's door. "I meant what I said earlier Simmons, thanks for looking after Sam. You…did a better job than I could have, even if I had known."

Spike closed the door and walked in the ER.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> So sorry I took so long to get this out, there really is no excuse. But here it is, and I'll try to get the rest out quicker. Kinda got distracted by all the fics on A03 and how I can download complete fics into a PDF to read on my kindle.


	13. Chapter 13

Frostbite

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 13**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Um...Merry Christmas? Enjoy the penultimate chapter of this fic. It's been a long time coming.

* * *

><p>Bee watched Simmons leave and enter the ER after Sam. He had never been a fan of the man, his time with Sector Seven always overshadowed the fact Simmons had joined NEST in 2009 and worked for the program for the next fifteen years. They never really got a chance to overcome first, and second, impressions. As an Autobot he was always in the field and Simmons rarely entered it. NEST was large, in staff and location, so they never really crossed paths.<p>

But the connection Simmons and Sam had - for he would always be Sam in his mind - was so natural, so caring on both ends it was hard not to warm up to Simmons. If Bee hadn't known Ron was really Sam's sire, he would have thought the two of them were father and son. Bumblebee felt the old relationship he and Sam had had paled in comparison.

It hurt, knowing that they, Sam, was keeping things from him.

Sam had told Simmons something inside the house, something that had to do with Sam choosing the new name 'Spike' and his future. Something Bee felt was going to be dangerous and would be much safer with a guardian along. His guardian directive of protecting Sam was still active, still in the primary slot of his processor, and it went against his entire being to leave Sam now. Not after twenty three years of separation. Not after catching hints of him going willing into danger with no back-up.

Sam and Simmons came out later than Bee had expected, but Sam's arm was fully taken care of; covered in a navy blue cast and supported by a matching sling. He could see markings on the plaster, it had already been signed by several people. Bee never wished he had the capacity to grasp a human pen and write more than then.

They stopped in front of him in the parking lot, Sam shifting awkwardly while Simmons stood firm.

"You can go back to your leader now," Simmons said. "We'll take a cab back and..." he glanced at Sam, "Get on with things."

"You sure you don't want to meet anyone?" Bee asked Sam. "Meet up with your parents? Ron and Judy would love to know you're okay. Mikaela too."

Sam flinched and took a half step backwards. "No. It'll be better if they don't know. But my parents are okay?"

"For the most part."

The two men stood there for a moment and then Sam stepped forward to pat his hood. "See you later Bee. Call sometime. I'm sure you can find my number."

He rolled forward to prolong contact with Sam's hand. "At least talk to Prime. He's been asking after you and is waiting the next block over at a supermarket parking lot."

Sam looked at Simmons, who shook his head. Sam responded with a shrug, but then made his way over to Bee's driver side. Bee opened the door and Sam cupped the top of the frame with his hand. "Just Prime?"

"Just Prime," Bee assured and Sam slipped into the seat.

"You're not going anywhere without me." Simmons opened the other door before Bee could and got in next to Sam. "You," he said, pointing at the younger man, "aren't leaving my sight for a full twenty four hours."

"Yes Mom." Sam rolled his eyes, but Bee could tell he didn't really mind the restriction. Taking it as a cue, Bee started his engine and pulled out.

* * *

><p>It surprised him that Optimus hadn't chosen a new alt form. Everyone else seemed to have. Seeing the flame covered Peterbilt made him hesitant in exiting Bee, but he figured the sooner the better. Optimus seemed very determined to see him anyway.<p>

"Stay here," Spike told Seymour, leaning into Bee's cab to talk to the other man. Seymour crossed his arms and grumbled under his breath, but didn't' make an attempt to move. Spike transferred his look from Seymour to Bee's radio and then parted with a 'be nice' before gently shutting Bee's door. He looked back before he was halfway between the two Autobots; Seymour was glowering at the radio.

Optimus opened his door once Spike was close enough. He reached up towards the handle on the side of the door to help him step up into the cab. When he was settled, Optimus shut the door.

"Bumblebee tells me you no longer go by the name Sam." There was something about Optimus's smooth rumble that instantly put him at ease.

"Yeah, I go by Spike. It's a nickname of sorts."

"I see." Spike could hear the semi shift underneath him, a sense of movement he just caught a hint of. "I want you to know, I did not condone Ratchet's actions. He acted on his own, and will be punished for it. But I am very please to see you alive and mostly healthy."

Spike traced the edge of his sling with his left fingers, looking down at his lap before staring straight out of the windshield to watch people enter and leave the grocery store of whose parking lot they were using. "I thought for sure you were involved. I didn't want to believe it, but I couldn't see Ratchet doing...all that without some type of help. And the more time went on, the more I thought you either knew from the beginning or had found out about it and didn't do anything. Even Bee." The words came out bitter and he could sense Optimus flinch.

"I am sorry Sam, I mean Spike. Ratchet surprised us all and sadly thought the same thing as you. I suspect Ratchet had simply selected a good spot to keep you and found himself to be in possession of a good amount of luck."

"Well, his lady karma really fucked me up. Multiple times. Took awhile for my own to strike back."

Optimus made a humming noise and Spike found himself pressing on. "You know, the Cons thought you guys had turned me into a weapon, played with my genetics. They couldn't see any other reason for my current situation. Did Ratchet tell you what he wanted?"

"Not specifically."

"Sparklings." Spike rubbed his face. "He wanted sparklings. He never did before, I don't know what changed, but he did it all for the potential of a kid."

"We have not seen any for many vorns. Bumblebee is the only one I am aware of who managed to avoid the slaughter of younglings and sparklings Megatron carried out on Cybertron. It was...delusional of my CMO to think you could provide him with one."

Spiked shifted so he was leaning against Optimus's door. "You haven't really talked to him yet, have you."

The semi shifted again accompanied by the sound of clicking. "I am too upset to have a proper conversation with him at the moment."

Spike leaned forward to pat Optimus's dashboard and then returned to his previous position. "The All Spark." He closed his eyes, trying to figure out how to word things. "I _am_ the All Spark. Now anyway. All the data the Cube had, it's here." He tapped the side of his head.

"I could go through the entire line of Primes, tell you who designed every single building on your planet. I know how you guys reproduce, how to call forth a new spark, but I can't do it." Spike shook his head. "Park of the process involved the affinity of sparks to the metal the Cube was made of. Being organic, I can't help you. Even if I had a desire too."

Optimus was silent, absorbing the information. When he finally spoke it was with a slow, guarded tone. "The All Spark has always been under some type of protection, guard. You'd be safe with us at NEST, or I could reassign Bumblebee to be your guardian."

Spike shook his head. "I don't want it. Your protection or Bee's. It's just..." He trailed off and made a wave motion with his hand.

"I can't simply leave you unprotected."

"I'm not." He looked back at Bee to watch Seymour. The retired man was sitting stiff, but seemed to at least be conversing with the Spyder. "And I got things I need to do, things that will be hard to accomplish with someone from NEST or Bee looking over my shoulder."

Spike felt Optimus shift uneasily again. "I'll be fine, Optimus, and I told Bee he's welcome to call once in awhile. You can too I guess."

"Thank you Spike. I'll certainly do that."

Silence filled the cab for a moment and Spike could feel the awkwardness of sitting in silence because there was nothing to say edging in. "So, I better get going."

"Of course," Optimus said, popping open the door. Spike jumped down and landed lightly on his feet. The door closed and Spike headed back towards Bee.

"Spike?"

"Hmm?" He pivoted to look at Optimus.

"I am very glad to see you alive and well."

"You too big guy."

"So?" Seymour asked as Spike snapped Bee's seat belt into place.

"So what?"

Seymour huffed.

"Relax," Spike said, "Things are all set."

"Really?"

"Well, for now anyway. That's good enough for me."

* * *

><p>It was moments like these that Spike was glad Seymour had him change the tracker in his thigh. Because if Bee knew where he was right now, and who was nearing, the Autobot would flip.<p>

"Hey Bee, what's up?" he asked, shifting on his stomach and getting a better grip on his binoculars.

"I'm stuck on brig duty. Skids and Mudflap _and_ Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are having a little contest to see who can pull the worse prank on Ratchet. This last one involved hydrochloric acid, so Prime locked them all up and I have to watch them."

"And let me guess, you're bored."

"Naturally. Jolt disabled their vocalizers and comm lines, so it's pretty quite here. I can't even ask them who pulled this one."

"How long has this been going on?" Spike pulled his eyes away from the binoculars to scan the road leading to the building he was watching, but he didn't see any dust that would warn him of an approaching vehicle.

"About four months. It started shortly after we got back form Samsoe."

"Ah."

"So, what are you doing?"

"Nothing much. Just enjoying the sun, climbing some trees. Not that these are very climbable." There was no need for Bee to know he was stalking a location he and Seymour thought the Decepticons were using on Fiji.

"Don't climb too high."

Spike rolled his eyes. Bee was very protective, even when on the other side of the world. The worry in the scout's voice was thick and Spike always found himself downplaying situations.

"Of course not. Like I said, they aren't very climbable. The one I'm in only has one low branch I can sit in." Never mind the fact that he was actually precariously perched on the top of a palm tree. Good thing Seymour was scoping out the town, otherwise he'd be getting an ear full of expletives.

"Okay."

The usual silence crept in. Bee would call every so often to check up on him, they'd share simple small talk, but it was hard to keep the conversation going. Spike always wondered if Bee could notice he was leaving things out, not being truthful, but Bee never called him out on it and he never knew what to say after the first minute or two.

"I saw your parents the other day."

"Oh?" Spike let the binoculars go to fall down and hang from the strap around his neck. "You didn't tell them, did you?"

"No. But I know they'd be enthusiastic if they knew you were alive."

"They're old. I don't want to shock them; you've already told be Mom's heart isn't too good."

"But-"

"No Bee," Spike shook his head. "I don't want to up turn their lives. I've done that too many times already."

Bee started to say something else, but Spike beat him to it. "And you can't tell Mikeala either. She's been married for sixteen years now."

"She named her first offspring after you. Did you know that?"

Spike pinched his eyes shut and then opened them to see a car coming towards the abandoned marine research station he was watching. "Talk to you later, okay Bee?" He snapped the phone shut without waiting for a reply.

He pulled up his binoculars and played with the focus until he could make out what type of car was coming his way. A black Ford Falcon. Barricade.

He reached behind him to the radio clipped to the waistband of his pants and brought it up to his mouth. "Ra, this is Anubis. Do you copy?"

"Copy, Anubis." Seymour's voice crackled through the radio. The older man had insisted on their use, as well as the call signs he selected.

"The old cop's shown up. I'm going closer."

"What? No! Sa-"

Spike turned off the radio and replaced it on his hip. Gingerly he made his way down the tree trunk, swinging the binoculars around so they hung down his back and not his front. When the ground was only a few feet below him, he jumped and landed on all fours. He paused for a moment to look around and get his bearing, then took off.

The door was closed, but open just wide enough for him to sneak in. Barricade had transformed once he entered the building and was standing with his back to Spike and facing something the All Spark knew to be a type of Cybertronian submarine. It was beat up, patched with bits of Earth technology. Barricade kept lifting and lowering his right hand and then brought it up farther than before while tilting his head back. He was finishing off a cube of energon.

Keeping to the walls, Spike sidestepped around the research center. It was tiny, just tall enough for Barricade to stand up straight, and could most likely only house three mechs of the Ford's size comfortably when empty. With the submarine in the center of the floor though, Barricade didn't have much free space to move around in.

Once on the opposite side of the station, with the sub between them, Spike began to climb over the submarine's side. It was difficult, Cybertonian metal was crazy smooth, but all the welding on the hull was enough to give him precarious footholds. Near the top of the sub, Spike laid flat and inched forward just enough to see over the top of it. Barricade's back was to him, and if Spike jumped from the submarine's top hatch to the Con he'd land about a foot beneath the Ford's data port.

Spike took a deep breath, pushed himself up as quickly as he could, and then started running at the Decepticon. The noise of his footfalls caused Barricade to turn around, but by that point Spike was already airborne. He landed on the Falcon's right pec, for lack of a better word. The Con froze, startled by a human on his chassis and trying to place a familiar face. It was all the time Spike needed to scuttle under Barricade's arm and to his back where the Con would have a hard time getting at him.

"Fragging human!" Barricade growled. "I won't let you do to me what you did to Dropkick."

Spike tightened his hold as Barricade rolled his shoulders back in a mess of shifting gears and plates to try to shake him off. He managed to prevent any pinching or crushing of fingers and toes.

"No worries there Cade. I had something different in mind." Because of Dropkick's forced neutrality, courtesy of an erased memory, he had refused time and time again to join the Decepticons and earned a place in a cell. And when he tried to escape, Starscream shot him in the back. Not exactly what you want to happen when your goal is to prevent the extinction of a race.

Spike slipped into a small hollow space just below the base of Barricade's neck. He had to curl up to fit, but it gave him the chance to use his hands to prep his cellphone; pull out the cord for Cybertonian hacks and start up his custom application. Judging Barricades motions, Spike calculated the best time to swing out and plug the cord in. Cybertronian code filled the screen. Spike imputed the medical shutdown code, pressed enter, and Barricade pitched forward. He landed with a loud clang on the sub and then slipped sideways until one of the submarines fins caught.

Spike stood panting for a few seconds before he collapsed in relief on the Con's shoulder. Barricade had been the first Decepticon to ever go after him, something that made the Ford number two on his ' 'Cons I Don't Want To Tangle With' list. But here he was, planning on hunting down and attacking the one at the top of that list, Megatron. Guess it only made sense to take out Barricade first. For practice.

Half an hour later, the door squeaked and Spike looked up to see Seymour warily poke his head in. "Hey!" Spike called to him with a wave.

Seymour jumped at the greeting and wildly turned his eyes towards Spike.

"Sam! What are you doing?"

"Relax, I knocked him out."

Seymour approached Barricade's foot and nudged it. After not getting a response, he started climbing up the Con's body to join Spike. "Couldn't have waited for backup, eh kid?"

Spike shrugged. "I didn't have the time. Plus, now we don't' have to wait any longer to go."

"Go? Go where?"

Spike raised his phone, still reading the screen. "I've got access to his memory files and thus Con protocols. Apparently the Decepticon base is under water, and this is the closest entry point."

Seymour settled down next to Spike. "So how do we get there?"

The younger man patted the metal of the sub. "Barricade's gonna poilot this and then take us to Megatron. I'm also gonna program him to not let any of the other Con's find out about us."

Seymour shook his head. "You know you scare me sometimes, right?"

Spike looked up from the phone. "You mean in a that's-so-awesome-it's-scary way or a it's-so-scary-it's-awesome way?"

"You know, I'm not sure."

"Right, well, you ready?"

"No. But I'll never be more ready, so I guess it's a yes."

Spike finalized the code and then sent it streaming through the cable to Barricade's processor. The Con woke up, opened a door in the sub, and then plucked the two humans off his shoulder to place them on the seat. He then started a pre-dive check.

"Thanks Cade," Spike sung, only to have Seymour cut him off.

"It's a Con, don't get friendly."

"But I'm the All Spark."

"Well at least wait till the war's over. Which will be soon if this all goes according to plan."

"It should." Spike watched Barricade step into the submarine.

"It better. Cuz if things don't work out here, we're dead." Seymour dragged a finger across his neck. "And now one would know what happened."

"Oh, I don't know." Spike hopped down from the seat to allow Barricade to sit. Seymour followed. "I have a feeling Megatron likes to gloat."

"He also likes to kill itty bitty humans like us!"

"Oh, relax Seymour. He won't even see us coming."

hr

The cracks under Cybertronian doors were tall enough for humans to easily crawl through.

"Up you go!" Sam whispered as he helped Simmons to his feet.

"I'm getting too old for this, kid."

"Aw, come on. It's not like I'm asking you to help me fight a Con."

"No, just sneak into the leader's bedroom and hack his system while he sleeps." Simmons brushed his clothes off and looked up to see Sam walking around the room. "What are you looking for?"

"The berth is higher than I thought it would be. I'm gonna need something to climb."

"I don't know about you Sam, but I don't see anything that we could even move to allow you to climb on it." The kid most have heard him, but continued to look around anyway. Simmons sighed, there wasn't really any other option. "Come here kid, use me."

Sam jogged over. "I'm gonna have to stand on your shoulders, not just sit."

"Yeah, yeah." He crouched down so Sam could hop on and then slowly stood up. Simmons took a step back to brace himself and pressed both hands to Sam's lower calves to secure the younger man.

"I'm good, I'm good. Now get close to the berth."

Simmons stepped forward until Sam directed him to stop. "I'm gonna stand up now, ready?"

"Ready," he grunted.

Sam's left foot was pulled up to his shoulder and the younger man balanced himself by grabbing Simmons's head before bringing his other leg up. Simmons wince at having his hair pulled and wished he was completely bald instead of simply going bald.

"Easy!" he hissed.

"Sorry!" Sam whispered back and then started to straighten. "Can you step forward a step? One more. Perfect. Stop."

There was a variety of pressure; he got kicked in one ear, then the nose, before Sam's weight left completely. Simmons watched him dangle from the berth for a second, but then Sam managed to climb over. He disappeared for a second and then reappeared to flash Simmons a thumbs up before taking off again.

Simmons waited impatiently, pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath and constantly checking his watch. After forty minutes, Sam reappeared. He settled himself down on the edge of the berth, legs hanging.

"Move," he called down.

Simmons stepped back and sideways. "What are you -"

Sam pushed off from the side of the berth and fell.

"Jesus Christ!" Simmons raced over to Sam. "Are you stupid? You didn't break anything did you?"

"Nope, but I might have sprained my ankle."

"Idiot."


End file.
